Altaria, the Altar Pokémon
by Triora
Summary: A dark ritual awaits a stolen Altaria in a tale of madness and desperation.


Here I shall attempt to recollect my thoughts and give a description of what took place in that wretched, cursed dungeon. Partly a regretful apology, I write this in hopes it might one day reach the poor bird's owners, or even if not so, then at least inform the public what they deserve to know about her fate.

This Altaria… what I came to know as My Altaria… Her radiant beauty and mesmerizing, crystalline song meant she was well loved. In short, she was a star; often brought to all kinds of shows, and indeed made her owners… financially well‐positioned.

My clever plan to capture her… I signed up as a volunteer—no one would suspect me, such a nice little elderly gentleman, always so nice and polite to everyone. I excused myself, sneaking into the backroom where she was kept (she liked her peace and privacy). Approaching her was easy—so naïve and trusting of humans she was, bless her. A powerful‐looking ball acquired from the black market held her captive as I had been assured. Silently slithering away like a devious Arbok, I slipped away unnoticed. I can't help but take some pride in my cleverness, do excuse me.

Now why did I do this? It was the wretched book! I was well read and was indeed known as a lover of literature, but few knew, of how few indeed knew about my special interest in the forbidden arts. It would begin as a curiosity, all those old books no‐one wanted to associate themselves with, I would take them in. And eventually, despite being well aware of all those stories of people losing their sanity over reading them, I picked them up, the wretched me picked them up and started reading!

It would do no good for the reader if I tried to describe the contents of those accursed pages. Read my lips, those works are forbidden and cursed is anyone who picks them up! Even I, the famous bibliophile, threw them into the fire to burn to the heavens in my fiery anger and grievance having realized what I had done to that poor bird.

But I must let the world know what it was that made me commit this horrendous crime. Hence I sit here in my study, writing this book, in hopes to restore some justice to the world after what I've done.

* * *

I still remember the mist, that icy mist that appeared with such little warning as I nervously started heading towards the dungeon. I'm certain I've heard of Pokémon being capable of influencing the weather. Even knowing Altaria was securely held in that contraption, I still can't shake off the feeling that she was somehow sending a message through that peculiar fog. But I knew it was too late: I was doomed, chained to the experiment as much as she was.

In pain and shame I am reminded of the time and energy I spent building that altar, preparing for the ritual. Even then, I already knew it. That particular Altaria would be the Altar Pokémon of my choice. Ah, choice… as if there was a choice! I was drawn to her as much as anyone, but most were content with seeing her in one of those shows… I had to get closer. Much closer.

And indeed, that is what I got. As if spellbound, I let her out of her spherical restraint, only to trap her in the cage in the middle. At first she was only mildly confused, perhaps thinking this was just another show. Even in the dark dungeon she would still sing, still seeking to please and charm her audience. Panic and despair would only set in with time.

Indeed it would take great strength to break that bond she had with her loving owners, to make her miserable, feeling abandoned. But I had to do it. Only in her moment of greatest despair, that moment when she feels the world has abandoned her, that no one would care about her, only then could the ritual truly commence.

I am cursed to be forever and ever tormented by those sights and sounds—few have ever seen an Altaria in such great agony. My only defense is one of insanity—I make no excuse.

* * *

Regret had begun the moment I decided to go ahead with the plan to capture her, entering her private space. But had I foreseen the pain and hurt that would come through my empathy towards the owners, indeed the whole community around the poor bird…

But as I have already made clear, there was no way out. There was no undoing what I had done, no way to help her now. She was on her own.

I would of course visit her from time to time to make sure she was kept physically alive, but as difficult as it was, everything I did had to be wrapped in a pretense of where I was only there to prolong and increase her suffering. Had she taken a liking to me, it would only have delayed the inevitable. I ask not for pity from my reader, but understand the task was not easy for me either.

And indeed, as was planned, she would become more and more miserable day by day. Eventually, I learned to disassociate myself from what I did with her, it was like becoming another person for the purpose of the tasks.

Months passed and I could still sense she had faith left in humanity. I began fearing I would run out of time, that she or I would be discovered. I had to face the reality that the level of cruelty I used with her had to be increased. The book I had, suggested… I do not wish to even think of those things, let alone imagine what kind of mind could have envisioned such things at all. Indeed, suffice to say I subjected her to things that no being, alive or dead, should ever have to suffer.

Everything I did, I believed I was ultimately doing for her.

* * *

Her state got progressively worse and worse, and as hard as I tried, the mental strain of trying to disassociate myself from her suffering started becoming too much to handle. Still I kept believing that eventually she would give up her faith and accept humanity as inherently, irreparably evil.

I could no longer hold back the tears and started wearing helmets and masks to hide my feelings from her. At the same time, another mask was already falling apart—I could no longer function in society pretending to be normal. I was forced to become a secluded hermit and commit myself fully to seeing this ritual completed. It was all for her sake, or so I still believed.

Even now, after all has been done, I still cannot erase those haunting memories of the Altaria, crying in anguish in her cage. My Altaria, together with who I was doomed in this cursed ritual…

The ritual… I will not comment on its purpose or goal. I seek no forgiveness from my peers. This is my final apology to the Altaria I… came to love so much… Forgive me, in eternity.

* * *

_(Newspaper clipping)_

**FAMOUS ALTARIA STILL MISSING**

**Police end investigation six months after disappearance**

Despite every effort from law enforcement, family, friends and community volunteers alike, no sign of the much beloved Altaria has been found. With no further clues, police sources confirm the case is no longer under active investigation. Those closest to the ill‐fated Pokémon reaffirm their promise to never give up on their search and urge everyone to "stay on the lookout".

With her radiant beauty the famed Altaria would captivate audiences throughout the region, her loving kindness said to reach even the coldest of hearts through her crystalline voice, shattering animosity and enmity. Many have given testimony of how her performances brought them closer and helped them let go of previous grudges.

Legend has it that a sacrifice so great and selfless was once made that she was conceived for us to never forget the power of loving commitment. It is at this time of great sorrow that we should all be reminded of this important value.


End file.
